


The Cult of Sarah Williams

by solphcra



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: BAMF!Sarah, Cannibalism, Cult worship, Cults, Cultural Tension, Debate on Immigration, Gen, Globalization, Guys this is my stress toy for life so, Humour, I'm as confused by this trash just as much as you are, Jareth is on The Bachelor, Modernised Fae, Multiple Folklores and Mythologies, Mystery, Racism, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, This is a long ass story, Violence, What if folktale creatures were a fully formed society and had OUR issues?, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8419834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solphcra/pseuds/solphcra
Summary: Between scamming the US government and looking for monsters inside closets, Sarah Williams has her hands full. Oh, and apparently since she’s the only one to have defeated the Goblin King, she may have kinda… started a cult. That kills people. For her. And also, may want to kill her. It’s a spiritual transcendence thing. Just… Just go with it. (please)  Note: this story discusses about the impact of immigration and social discrimination. It will take stands you may not agree with. FEEL FREE TO ARGUE.





	1. Oh my nuclear baby

**Author's Note:**

> unapologetically unedited. This is for fun! I hoped to take a closer look at Fae in the 21st century, how they would adapt, their communities and explore common tropes along the way. Yes. Jareth eats people, and he's in a dating reality show. It happens.
> 
>  

The girl in the bright yellow muumuu and thick snow boots scraped furiously at the dirty layer of ice crusting the slope of her stairs. Tartan-gloved hands wrapped fastidiously around her old steel shovel, and her shoulders worked diligently to gain leverage under the dark frozen ice layer. She felt winter’s mindless chill creep up her bare legs and sink into her muscles, but ignored it in favour of cooling down the rising heat she was working up within her. However, as sweat creeped down her muggy face, she finally shrieked and started stabbing at the stubborn encrustation with righteous indignation. 

Tiny slivers of ice flew up and invaded her face, but she simply yanked her muffler over her mouth and nose and continued revenging her anger on the blasted melted snow. 

“Tsk tsk. Temper, temper.”

Sarah Williams snapped upwards to look into the smirking face of her husband. She responded by scooping up a handful of dirty snow into her gloves and flinging the slush at his face. 

He yelped and dodged, glaring daggers at her. “Oh _real neat_ , real mature, Sarah.”

“Oh sorry, _honey_ ,” she spat, her voice saccharine. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Lin Chee frowned. “Must you always be so charmingly vulgar?”

Sarah deadpanned and brought her shovel up. In a dramatic sweep downwards, she cracked it sharply against the iced over stairs. Tiny slivers skidded out like fireworks. 

“Shovel my stairs for me,” she demanded.

“No.”

“But whyyy?” She whined with a huff, flinging her shovel onto the ground and kicking her boots off. Lin Chee’s eyes widened. “Wait,” he started, but Sarah was already heading back into her house. 

“What the—“

The door slammed close in his face. 

“COME IN YOU MORON,” Sarah hollered from inside her kitchen, no doubt already moving on to another task. The eighteen year old’s attention was as slippery as gravy. If you didn't have something to offer her, she dropped you faster than a live grenade full of diarrhoea. 

Lin Chee, her husband, rubbed his face and sighed. Not for the first time, he wondered at the trouble of his child-bride. 

“What are you doing?” He called out.

* * *

 

Sarah Williams sprayed Windex on the mirror, wiping it away with her newspaper rag. “I can’t believe he didn't choose Renee, I mean, sure she’s a real _mama bitch_ , but he could do with so much better y’know?”

Hoggle shrugged, munching noisily on his biscuits. “Does it really matter? Who’ver gets chosen in the end ‘ill get probably get kicked out from his castle in a week or so.” 

“Ooooh, with the way you tell me he goes about devouring women? And, ew, _literally_ eating them in some cases. Is cannibalism really such a trend in the Otherland, Hoggle?”

The dwarf snorted, wiping off crumbs with the back of his hand and slurping down honey tea. “Cannibalism’s eating yer own kind. Sure, they’re female but they’re not Faerie like ‘im ya know. Not like he minds if that’s the case…” he mumbled.

Sarah merely shrugged, struggling with a particularly stubborn rust stain. As she rubbed her newspaper rag insistently over it, deep squeaks issuing from the friction. Hoggle frowned and tapped on his own mirror. “None ‘o that! That’s not how ya git stains like these ‘off. Jeez, Sarah.”

Sarah huffed and tossed aside the rag. “So all that’s left is Mina, Carisse, Lovelle and Justina… awww and the next episode’s a double elimination too.” 

Hoggle scurried back from his back garden shed, a green olive-glint bottle in his hand. “‘Ere, try this.”

Sarah pursed her lips, wiping her hand on her pink apron. “What is it?”

“It’s me great-great-great-great-great grandpapa’s special oil, it is,” Hoggle puffed up proudly, “Ran in the family for a couple ‘o gents. Never sold the recipe. Works wonders.”

“Oooooooh. So what’s the recipe?”

“Secret.”

“Ah.”

“That’s why it’s been in my fam’ly— never mind. Just pat a little drop onto the mirror and it ought to shine.”

Sarah did as told and soon the stain was off. 

“This is a bit weird, really,” Sarah remarked. Hoggle shrugged. “I don’t ‘ave TV.”

She scowled at him through their portal mirror. Three years on and Sarah could use mirrors like Skype— or a 72” plasma screen in Hoggle’s case. In this, however, she had half an hour left to tidy up place before she had to move to the next cabin. Hoggle sniggered unrepentantly and yowled when she hurtled his bottle at his face. 

“Hoggle,” she huffed, brandishing the toilet brush like a sword. “Mean.”

Then she flounced up the stairs like a killer spoiled Queen.

 

* * *

 

She patted her hands on the bed covers. 

Then she stomped her feet. 

Taking a short break, she sighed and flashed her torchlight under the bed. 

Finally, with the little girl perched on the wardrobe, knees drawn up to her chin watching her, she growled loudly and dropped to her knees, yanking the bed covers away. Poking her head into the underbelly of the large bed, she squinted her eyes and snarled when she spotted her quarry. 

“Eek!” The little nightmare squealed as it was dragged out, her hand around its throat. It flailed and kicked, shadows scraping the wooden floor. The little girl on the wardrobe hugged her knees tighter and covered her eyes. 

“Oi oi! No fair! She was even prey!” 

It had a raspy high pitched voice and beady black eyes, formed from wispy shades of grey and pitch. Her mouth twisted as she sat it straight on the floor. 

“Not according to the sis here,” she jerked her head backwards. The girl in question removed her hands and watched the creature timidly. Its eyes burned into her for a second before snapping to Sarah’s face. 

“So what? She was still a mite little thing, plenty o’ years on her. We dreams don’t give a shite about the dead, _Champion_ ,” it sneered. Sarah in response merely clucked her tongue disapprovingly and smothered its tiny face with her left palm. Her hands engulfed its head and it squeaked and struggled, hands pressing uselessly into her wrist. 

“Maybe, you piece of shit,” she retorted. “But _I_ care when it gets too much. Graveyard chase, really? You know she’s only like— five right? You go down this way you’ll break her before she lives her so-called ‘plenty years’ as you say. Kids can only take so much you utter bastard.”

At that, it wailed and stomped its intangible limbs on the floor, kicking up dream dust and stinking miasma. To her amazement, it attempted to _shift_ while under her palm, shadows lengthening and stiffening, the curve of a blade forming. She squeezed his head a little harder. It stopped immediately, the smokey form dropping into useless mist. 

“Hey you! You’re kidding me huh? You know what I can do to you, you little fourth rank. You wanna get yanked into _my_ head? Huh? You wanna denature so bad?”

“Nooo nooooo!” it screeched to Sarah’s disgust, voice garbled against her hand. She let it go quickly, flicking her hand of the sticky goop. Its beady eyes were blown wide, mucus trailing down its nostrils. “I’m sooorry… I promise not to do it again! I promise, me swear!” The nightmare sobbed, collapsing to its tiny knees. With a huff, she took her dirtied hand and ruffled its head. The thin, twisting shadows seemed to draw together before sloughing off like sand, streaming off the creature inside it and revealing a little crying goblin with red eyes. 

“That’s right!” Sarah scolded, discreetly wiping her hand on its tunic. (The smell, she knew, would stick and put her off her lunch). “No more overkill on the nightmares, you understand? Or I’ll deal with you _permanently_.”

The goblin sniffled, nodding exuberantly. “Promise! Promise the champion, oh yes I do!”

“Good!”

“Waaahhh!”

“S-Stop crying! It wasn’t _that_ bad!”

“Bwaahh… I’m sooorry, so soorryyy. Waaahh…”

 _Oh my god._ Sarah stopped herself from slapping her forehead. The last thing she needed was getting _that_ all over her face, triggering another round of acne _no thank you_. Instead, she breathed heavily out her nose and gathered the tiny creature into her arms. 

“There, there,” she soothed, cringing when it blew its nose _on her shirt_. “Don’t cry… there’s nothing to cry about. You did something bad and you had to be punished for it. That’s all there is to it, all right?”

“Waaaahh… I’m sorry…”

“Yeah yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Didn’t exactly get that with that gung-ho facade you put on earlier. _Do not ever do that again_ ,” her voice went hard at the end, the real warning. She may be willing to put up with a crying, snivelling (oh my god, my poor shirt) little goblin, but she held no tolerance for anything attempting physical harm on her of any kind. 

“Yes yes, I’m sooooorryyy… *sniff* *sniff*”

Eventually, the goblin calmed down and Sarah couldn't resist a little smile as she patted its head, reminding it to keep the nightmares down to a G-rated variety. It sniffled, promised to be good before scurrying back underneath the bed. She sighed loudly and stretched, facing the little girl still hunched over on the wardrobe. 

“Happy?” She enquired. The little girl nodded vigorously, eyes large within her stringy hair. Sarah grimaced as she wiped her hands down with a hankie and gave the room a three-sixty. Satisfied with the results, she hummed and left the room, leaving the ghost girl to guard over her still living sister. 

 

* * *

 

“That’a be sixty-three silver and four gold if you please,” she announced cheerily.

The mixed couple stood before her, eyeing her apprehensively. “It’s done?” the woman demanded. “Talisa won’t have anymore of those _horrid_ nightmares?”

“Remnants of trauma from the crash goaded a nightmare into terrorising her beyond safety standards,” Sarah explained. “It was an inexperienced nightmare, could see it hadn’t much experience on the field. I gave it a stern talking to and ta-da! It agreed to stop its more… mature nightmares.”

The skepticism in the woman’s eyes changed to indignation as she exclaimed, “Are you telling me that the Goblin King sent some— some _rookie_ twat to deal with _my_ Talisa?”

Sarah shrugged. Her upturned palm was getting _really_ tired. “It’s not unusual really. Although,” her gaze sharpened, “it would not have escalated to such a high point if the both of you had just sat down with her and dealt with her trauma face to face. The accumulation of fear and paranoia was what really set that nightmare off. She would have been spared this if you’d just listened to her.”

The woman closed her mouth with a snap, looking for all the world incredible annoyed. Sarah resisted a huff and an eye roll. Parents. Leave it to them to blame everything else besides themselves. 

The woman was about to make a sharp reply when Sarah beat her to the punch, snapping her fingers open and grinning her best customer service smile. 

“Sixty-three silver and four gold, please.”

 

* * *

 

She didn’t have a license in the strictest of sense. Strict, being that, _no_ she did not have a license. License, in the way that _yes_ , I am allowed by the town to drive. The sheriff didn’t give two hoots about her, as far as she was concerned. Besides, he was sweet on her. She made the most _fantastic_ pot cookies. 

Her car was a modest little thing. Modest was a stretch. Let’s rephrase. 

Her car was a banged up little thing, resplendent with scratches and dents and gouged out cushioning. It puttered in the cold, which considering her location, was _perpetual_. It had two adorable front headlights and a curved top, not dissimilar to a little face blinking hopelessly up at her. Sometimes it shook, vibrated on the road and made the most _awful_ noise as she commuted to a fro. Sarah vacillated between hating and adoring it unconditionally. 

She named it Jar-jareth, combining a flouncing, pathetic science fiction creature and an infamous, dark, non-fiction monster. Both were useless in her eyes, really. Useless… but kinda cute. 

When she pulled up to her house, Jar-jareth made a particularly ear-ripping whine as she pulled the brakes. She patted it affectionately and tried to focus through the ringing in her ears as she stumbled out, tripping over her shoelaces and landing face first into the snowy floor ( _Acne alert! Acne alert!_ ) Sitting up, she spat snowflakes from her mouth and wrinkled her nose at the stench of her hand. _Oh god. The laundry to DO_. 

She blinked and tilted her head. Sheriff Malney watched her cluelessly from her front door, eyebrow raised from behind large transition spectacles that swallowed his face. He blinked.

She blinked. 

“Hi Sheriff!” She waved. He looked away and cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

Oh. Official business then. She put her arm down sadly, unable to help the little pout.

“How can I help you, oh great Chef-fif?”

Malney scowled to the side and straightened his police jacket, fidgeting. It was a little weird to appear at Sarah William’s door with such stark news. She was a sweet girl, arriving in town when freshly eighteen and married to the Asian bloke. They didn’t live together, he knew. The husband had a townhouse under his lover’s name and spent his days there, maintaining an amiable relationship with his wife, who lived on the outskirts of the forest. 

He cleared his throat again and moved closer to the prone girl. Her legs were splayed out, snow melting in her messy hair and red-cheeked from the cold. He smelled a hint of putrefying ooze, so _out on a job then_ , he thought. As he neared he could see how his changed persona affected her, how her limbs tightened just a smidge and her eyes harden. The atmosphere around her altered a tiny bit, becoming _ready_ and _watching_. He stopped himself from shifting his weight to another feet, keeping his face easy and neutral. 

Sarah Williams was powerful for a changed one, everyone knew. She was nice and sweet and slightly insane, her trials to get here having knocked a few marbles from her head (everybody still whispered about the _father_ ) but she could take several full-grown trolls in a fight, and nobody forgot the little Toffee Bridge Incident the year before. 

She was given several powers after all. 

“Nothing serious,” Sheriff Malney mumbled. He hated having to do this to her. “Just um, we need you to come to the station with us.”

There was a pause as she took it all in. “Wait, whaaaaaat? What happened? Did something happen to Lin Chee? Did he get into an accident or something? Is Sammy alright, because _I swear_ —“

“Oh no,” he coughed a little. “There’s been ah—“

“Come on, spit it out!”

“There’s been a murder,” he admitted clumsily. Malney sighed and drew his hair back with his fingers, repositioning his hat. “We found the body of an outsider, desiccated. There’s… well. Williams, there’s a message written there and it seems to be for you.” 

Sarah sucked in a huge breath. “WHAT?”

He nodded grimly. “It’s a practical horror show. Syafiqah could barely hold it together before retching all over her boots. It’s a gore fest there and well—“

“How do you know?”

The sharpness of her tone made him draw back a little, startled. “Excuse me?”

“How do you know?” Sarah bit out impatiently, her words hard and razored. “I mean, what was it? My name written in blood, someone posted my phone number there— _how do you know_.”

“Well, there was a teddy bear there,” Malney said hesitantly, and he took notice of her small little gasp. “It was a raggedy thing and see, well, it’s got your scent on it. We flipped it over and there was stitching on the bottom—“

“Lancelot.”

“What?” He blinked at her abruptness. “Yes, Lance— how did you know?”

Sarah did not answer him, rising up from the snow. She looked like a deranged snow banshee, red-faced and hair a petrified nest atop her head. Taking in a series of deep breaths, Malney recognised the breathing exercise she did whenever she was in danger of going into a rage or panic. 

“Let’s go before the carrion-eaters overwhelm Syafiqah and drive her insane,” she sighed. She looked at Jar-jareth longingly, while a piece of sleet slid off her head and into her face.

“Mind if we take your car?”

 


	2. Rueben and Kiki and Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EQUAL RIGHTS FOR SOCK PUPPETS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't edit this story. i will regret this. but now?
> 
> NOPE

The girl scampered along the base of her table. Syafiqah propped her feet up on her table and wondered what on earth she was doing. 

“Don’t bite my shoes,” she said pointedly. The Deputy was feeling a little irritated tonight, after unloading a whole meal’s worth of puke all over the floor earlier that evening. She had a gun, for god’s sake, and practically an army of _pelesit_ at her beck and call. Six years of policing had taught her to patrol in a leather jacket and _lasting_ make-up while pulling off that cool, unaffected vibe even when someone else’s barn had caught fire. 

Syafiqah was a _badass_ … A badass whose jacket was _ruined_. 

“‘Allo love!” One sock puppet popped up from below her desk. It was blue and had a bad Scottish accent.  

“Not feeling alright, love?”

“No.”

“ _Awww!_ ” Its mouth mushed as it tilted its head. “Well, we can’t ‘ave that, can we, eh? Oi! Kiki! G’ed up ‘ere!”

“What!” Another sock puppet emerged. This one clearly had hole-puncher cutouts scotch-taped as its eyes. It ‘glared’ at her friend before seeming to notice Syafiqah. “Oh why, hello there, pretty!” It squeaked shrilly, doing a floppy curtsey. “How can we help?”

“This gal’s saying that she’s a little under the weather, Kiki!”

“Oh no!” Kiki gasped. The tape unstuck and fluttered briefly off her face. Rueben hastily slammed it back down. “Why, Rueben, we can’t have that!”

“No, we can’t ‘ave that at all!" 

“What should we do, Rueben?”

Rueben turned to face Syafiqah. He said nothing for a minute and merely stared at her, a silence meant to symbolise how deep Rueben was when he analysed somebody. Or to impress that Rueben was blind.

“You both should be replaced,” Syafiqah told him blandly. “You’re starting to have a weird smell.”

Both Rueben and Kiki gasped in shock, and Kiki fainted against Rueben. “Oh how rude! Normally I’d retaliate and tell you how _impolite_ and _mean_ you’re being by insulting somebody who is trying _very hard_ to cheer you up—“ Syafiqah kicked underneath the table. 

“Ow! I mean— I mean… Oh no, Rueben!” Kiki shrieked in sorrow and nuzzled its little face against Rueben. “Look at what you’ve done! You should apologise!” 

“For what.”

“Why, for hurting our feelings of course!”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Hey, that’s not— that’s not very deputy-like!”

“Nice try.” 

“But it’s your job to take care of everybody! That’s what a deputy does, so deputies have to be nice!”

“That really depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether the person _is an actual living being_.”

“What, so we’re not ‘actual living beings’ so we don’t matter?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s discrimination!" 

“How on earth is that discrimination?”

“You’re treating people according to your own categories and prejudices! You’re prioritising your respect based on personal classifiers. Everybody should be treated fairly!” 

“So you’re saying that if you’re run over by a car and lets say… Malney is run over too. I should distribute my attention equally and not, you know, to _a living being_?” 

“Yes! But well… you should pay more attention to me actually…”

“No.”

“But what if it wasn’t me? What if it were, say, a vampire? Vampires are technically dead. Are you saying because of that it doesn't matter?” 

Syafiqah scowled. Kiki had a point.

“That’s… that’s different.”

“Hah! See?”

“Vampires aren’t as likely to get severely injured in a car accident compared to _Malney_.”

“Ah, but you don’t know that do you?”

Syafiqah levelled the sock puppet another glare. Since when did a conversation with a sock puppet get so intense?

“You’re doing a terrible job cheering me up, Sarah.” She announced loudly. The deputy was awarded with a groan and both Rueben and Kiki dropping out of sight. 

Sarah Williams rose up from the floor and stretched. “You’re a grump, Dep.” She yawned. The girl ripped off the former Kiki’s eyes before pulling on her worn socks. The deputy watched the callous murder with an unaffected stare.  

“Argument via puppetry is not counted.”

“But it has valid points, don’t you think?” Sarah winked and collapsed onto the sofa propped up against the wall. “Particularly with all that trouble over the Ora Centauri Agreement in the Alliance these days.”

Her words were met with a derisive snort from the first-generation Indonesian migrant before she went back to her work dismissively. As a resident of the Scattered Settlements, and therefore not a part of the Alliance, the Ora didn't affect them, but news of the alleged violence against immigrants in Alliance territory had reached even them. Malney had actually predicted a few weeks ago that the town would receive a sudden influx soon, despite the isolation of their location. 

The Kobalos Empire, ruled by the Goblin King was a part of the Alliance. Sarah’s stomach clenched as she wondered how that creature was doing now. She had heard that after the Siege of Coro, the unrest within his lands had become palpable; to the point where he risked an insurrection. Furthermore, strange earthquakes and natural disasters had sprung up erratically within his kingdom, and that was obviously not helping.

“Saraaaaaaah!”

“Your friends are here.”

“I can’t believe you got arrested!”

Sammy swung past the door and looped an arm violently around her shoulders. Sarah choked and flailed at the force he slammed into her. Lin Chee followed close behind and watched them with an air of disdain. 

“It’s 3am in the _morning,_ Sarah.” He scolded her, hands deep in his pants pockets. He had changed out of his pyjamas into a simple shirt and pants, having taken obvious care to wash his face and comb his hair in spite of the unpleasant circumstances. Her husband would never be caught dead outside in a mess. Period.

Next to Sarah, his lover was still in his own work clothes, hair perpetually tousled from continuously taking off and landing in his flights. They bid the disgruntled deputy farewell, Lin Chee apologising deeply and Sammy cracking a joke that died as soon as it hit the water.

Sarah was dragged outside and fussed over, shoved inside a car with her protests ignored and unceremoniously pushed inside the guest room of their home.

“It’s late,” Lin Chee had asserted.

“And your house is _way_ far,” Sammy added in. “Besides, I want to hear all about your illegal adventure!”

 

* * *

 

“Malney won’t charge me,” Sarah said, after she had finished telling them about her little field trip to see that… dead body. 

It had been a horrific scene, and Syafiqah was completely justified in hurling onto the ground, because the sickening scent of baby powder and rotting gore had made _her_ puke and knock out cold for fifteen minutes. 

The sight of Lancelot, its fur matted with blood had nearly sent her blowing another round of chunks, especially considering what had been stuffed inside. 

The woman, they realised then, _had_ actually been pregnant.

It was serious shit, the town’s coroner had declared, looking a little green himself. The human police enforcement would have theorised a serial killer, but Syafiqah had pointed out that the behaviour wasn't unlike that of the wild Wendigo packs, especially those of hive intellect. They were vicious, messy, and liked to toy with their food and would have been a liable explanation if it weren't for Sarah Williams’ teddy bear.

A teddy bear she had burned two years ago, outside her little house in Britain as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She remembered vividly watching its small, soft body curl into itself before blackening, the smoke stinging her sinuses and bringing a fresh round of sobs. The way her heart seemed to break in her chest had driven her to her knees. That was the moment she realised that she had to leave.

A part of her wondered if Lancelot’s miraculous reappearance was due to the machinations of the Goblin King. She _knew_ he had never stopped chasing her. _Why,_ she wasn’t exactly sure. Over the years of snatching whispers and information seemed to imply that something had gone truly fucked up during her run— something that apparently wasn't supposed to happen, but did. The information had been unclear… the only useful and reliable tidbit gleaned however, was that the time limit normally given to run the Labyrinth? 

13 years.

So why the hell had he given her 13 hours?

“I don’t know what to do if he’s responsible for this,” Sarah admitted over a mug of coffee. “I have too many roots here… I can’t leave Lin Chee or risk getting deported… My savings are all in my house, and this town is already one of the most remote amongst the Settlements. I literally have nowhere else to go.”

“I’m not sure myself, Sarah.” Sammy said slowly. He had changed out of his clothes into baggy pyjamas and Lin Chee had followed suit. They had all double checked the doors and windows to ascertain they were locked before settling down at the kitchen island. “I had a passenger from one of the boundary counties last week. In transit from Caerule, or so he said. The Goblin King has enough on his hands with the fallout from Ora. Besides… he’s head of a huge empire. It’s more than likely that he has already forgotten you, Sarah.”

She and Lin Chee shared a quick glance before looking down. Sammy hadn’t been with them during the earlier years.

“Regardless of the culprit, the fact remains that he or she so obviously knows where you reside, Sarah. Your teddy bear could be a warning.” Lin Chee sipped calmy from his cup.

“Exactly!” She exploded. “From who? Who else besides the Goblin King have I seriously pissed off, Lin? No one!”

“Well, you are quite irritating.”

“Ha. Ha." 

“What about the Sheriff? Didn't see him at the station earlier,” Sammy butted in. “What’s his plan to deal with this?” 

“Malney’s missus has the flu so he couldn't stay,” Sarah said dismissively. “He says that he’s checking with the Sheriff the next town over before consulting with the Mayor.”

“You mean his wife.”

“Wife. Mayor. Overlord. Same thing.”

“What about you?” Lin Chee cut in blandly. “What’s _your_ plan to deal with this?”

Silence overtook the room. Sarah sunk down in her seat and hunched over her drink, long hair covering her face and making her seem rather small.

“I don’t know.” She confessed quietly. 


End file.
